Spiral

by Roderick Gordon

“Not going to happen,” Drake cut her short, his face grim. “We don’t have that luxury. This operation is all or nothing — we have to stop the Phase in its tracks, whatever it takes.”

  Mrs. Burrows started to object, but Drake had moved away to speak to Parry over a private frequency on his radio headset. Once the conversation was finished, Drake returned. “Everybody’s in position around the target building, and we’re on the final countdown.” He swung his Bergen from his back. “I want you all to strip down to tactical kit — weapons and ammo only. Stow everything else here. Then you can watch the first stage from the windows.”

  Armed with their Stens, Will and Chester went to the front of the basement and stood on tiptoe to peer through the dusty windows.

  “Bloody Limiters,” Will growled as he saw a pair of them at the gates. “They look like they own the place.”

  “Those other men — do you reckon they’re New Germanians?” Chester said.

  Will gave Colonel Bismarck a glance as the man watched from another window. Some of the soldiers over the road were his troops from the inner world, and Will wondered what the Colonel thought about Drake’s no-prisoner policy. Will also knew that if the Colonel hadn’t been shocked from his Dark Light programming by the explosion in the city, right now he could be one of those brainwashed soldiers patrolling the factory.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Parry’s voice coming over the headsets. “Alpha, I say, Alpha,” he enunciated clearly, initiating the first stage of the operation. “Remove the designated targets on my mark.” He paused for a beat, then began to count down. “Five — four — three — two — one — FIRE!”

  There wasn’t a sound, but the men Will could see in the parking lot simply dropped from sight.

  Up on the roof, Stephanie swiveled the spotting scope around. “Next target’s on the move — he’s turning — he’s going toward the entrance,” she said, her voice becoming shrill with the urgency.

  “I see him,” Elliott replied calmly, then pulled the trigger. Her silenced rifle bucked in her hands, but the only sound was a small rush of air. As the round found its mark, the Limiter pitched forward, his head exploding scarlet over the white snow.

  “Ohhh,” Stephanie said, putting her hand to her mouth. “That was totally a bull’s-eye.”

  “Bravo,” Parry’s voice announced. “I repeat — Bravo. We’ve cleared the sentries.”

  “Right, all of you outside,” Drake ordered.

  Having taken off the top of the Limiter’s cranium as if his head was a hard-boiled egg, the Warrior larva was scooping out the last of the man’s brain with its prehensile tongue. Its eyes flickered in ecstasy at the delicious gray matter, as the larva’s hyperefficient digestive system absorbed the proteins just as quickly as it could gulp them down.

  Will and Chester started across the road with Drake and Sweeney flanking them, and Colonel Bismarck, Mr. Rawls, and Mrs. Burrows following behind.

  “Look at that.” Will was referring to what must have been a hundred men from Parry’s Old Guard advancing in a line. And those were only the ones he could see; he knew there must be at least the same number again around the other sides of the factory. “I didn’t realize there were so many of them.”

  Drake had overheard Will. “Yes, the perimeter’s in. My old man’s running the show by the textbook,” he said, his eyes full of admiration as he watched his father join the line of Old Guard farther along the road. “He’s even sent a couple of units into the sewers, in case anything tries to use the drains to make a break for it.”

  The snow on the tarmac helped to deaden any sound the Old Guard made as they closed in. And when they reached the boundary fencing around the site, all that could be heard was the occasional bluster of the wind.

  Then there was activity. The main doors to the office building swung open, and a Limiter emerged, clearly in a hurry. Something had rattled him. But he’d taken only a couple of paces before a crossbow bolt struck him in the neck. As he dropped to the ground, all the Old Guard seemed to be holding their breath, but no one else followed him through the doors.

  “Charlie,” Parry’s voice crackled over the radio. “I say again, Charlie. Before we lose the advantage of surprise.”

  Drake signaled to Will and the others to come with him through the gates and into the parking lot. The Old Guard were all around them, running to the various entry points of the factory that Parry had assigned them.

  “Stay well back,” Drake ordered as he and Sweeney moved into the main entrance of the office building, covering one another. There was no one in the reception area, so Drake immediately advanced along the corridor leading from it, Sweeney checking the rooms on either side as they went.

  “The boardroom,” Drake whispered into the throat mike as Sweeney slipped through the last of the doors. “I saw it on the ground plan.”

  With their Stens at the ready, the boys kept their distance as Drake had told them, with Mrs. Burrows, the Colonel, and Mr. Rawls bringing up the rear. A couple of the Old Guard had also entered the reception area, but they remained by the doors.

  When Sweeney emerged from the boardroom, he and Drake inched farther down the corridor. They stopped as a small explosion shook the whole factory, followed by the rattle of automatic weapons.

  “Delta, Delta, Delta!” Parry’s urgent voice came over the radio. “The gloves are off!”

  Unscrewing the silencer from his Beretta, Drake turned to address everybody. “The Styx know we’re here now, but we’re still going to take it nice and easy,” he said.

  He and Sweeney continued down the corridor until they came to a corner. Sweeney moved ahead, his back to the wall, while Drake slid along the opposite side.

  Sweeney suddenly raised a fist, and Drake froze. The big man pointed to his ear, then up ahead. He’d heard something.

  The Warrior larva could have pulverized what was left of the Limiter’s skull with its powerful molars, but other softer and juicier parts of the corpse were too inviting. It was moving toward the Limiter’s legs when it heard the explosion and the ensuing gunfire.

  It paused momentarily, but then the smell of the blood from the two bullet holes Rebecca One had left in the man’s chest became too much for it to resist. The larva crept back up the Limiter’s body and began to lick at these, then nibbled the meat on the man’s ribs.

  “What’s that?” Sweeney whispered to Drake.

  Dappled with blood, the ivory-colored tail had been sweeping from side to side, visible to both of them. Then, as the creature clawed its way up the Limiter’s corpse, the tail disappeared from view.

  And whether the larva had heard or smelled the two humans approaching along the corridor, it now reluctantly stopped feeding and lowered its body in readiness.

  Sweeney was straining to hear what was there. But it was impossible with all the noise coming from the other parts of the building.

  “Careful,” Drake whispered, taking tiny steps forward.

  There was no fear in the larva’s mind — it wasn’t capable of that. All it felt was the excitement that more food, with beating hearts, was coming its way. It suddenly broke from cover and hurtled into the corridor.

  “Jesus! Contact!” Drake cried, as the Warrior larva scuttled straight past him like a lizard, opposing legs clawing the carpet.

  The speed at which the creature was moving was phenomenal, but so was Sweeney’s reaction time. He managed to get a shot off, clipping its tail. And although Sweeney was back at the corner of the corridor in the blink of an eye, with the retreating hindquarters of the larva squarely in his sights, he was unable to take a second shot. Will was right in the line of fire if the bullet happened to go wide.

  The single shot might have slowed it a little, but the Warrior larva was still haring straight down the middle of the corridor.

  “Stop it!”
Drake yelled.

  Later, he asked himself if the reason he hadn’t opened fire on it was not because of how quick the creature was, but because of what he’d seen. It was true that the Warrior larva had been moving at a blistering speed, but its appearance might have also been a factor.

  The sight of its head was enough to make his heart miss several beats.

  Will’s and Chester’s jaws dropped as they reacted in the same way.

  Although its torso was amphibian, its head was something else entirely.

  Something shocking.

  The larva’s head was that of a human child — with distinct human features. Covered in off-white scales, the eyes, nose, and ears were perfectly formed, albeit the mouth was filled with shiny white spikes for teeth, and its tongue was at least a foot in length as it flicked out.

  And worse still, when Sweeney winged it, the wail it emitted could have been that of a human infant.

  As the Warrior larva bolted toward the main doors, one of the Old Guard had heard Drake’s warning and was moving rapidly to intercept it. He brought his shotgun up, but the larva simply sprang clean over his head.

  “Crikey!” he shouted. The old soldier still had his instincts, though, and tried to take the shot as he tipped backward. He missed the creature completely, the light on the corridor ceiling exploding into a million pieces and showering him and the boys.

  “Stop it!” Drake yelled again.

  Then Mr. Rawls was the only obstacle in its path to freedom through the main doors.

  Again the Warrior larva sprang.

  The second member of the Old Guard tried to shoot it in midair, but he missed, too, the round shattering a vase on the reception desk.

  Mr. Rawls had stepped back. The Warrior larva tried to alter its trajectory by rotating its tail, but it wasn’t enough. It slammed into Mr. Rawls, gripping his chest with its claws.

  “Colonel! Shoot it!” Drake shouted, realizing that the larva was dangerously close to escaping.

  But the New Germanian couldn’t open fire for fear of hurting Chester’s father.

  Despite the weight of the Warrior larva on him, Mr. Rawls had managed to remain on his feet. He was staggering backward as if he was doing some form of bizarre limbo dance.

  “Help! Help! Help!” he was jabbering as the larva bit down on his shoulder. Mr. Rawls screamed in shock and pain.

  “Get it off him!” Chester cried, aiming his Sten but knowing there was no way he could use it.

  Something flashed through the air.

  The Warrior larva slid from Mr. Rawls, a knife embedded up to the hilt in its neck. As the creature flopped to the floor, its limbs were still moving, but only in a weak reflex action.

  “Evil-looking thing,” one of the Old Guard muttered.

  “Nice kill, Colonel,” Sweeney said. “I thought the Sticky bug was outta here.”

  Colonel Bismarck went over to the Warrior larva. Placing a foot on the creature’s back, he yanked his knife out. “Ich war es nicht,” he said. He put the knife back into the scabbard on his belt, then glanced over at Mrs. Burrows. “It was Celia. She helped herself to my knife.”

  “Mum!” Will exclaimed. “How did you do that? You can’t even see!”

  Mrs. Burrows shrugged as Drake examined the creature, which was still twitching. “Better make sure it’s dead. Who knows what these things are capable of?” he said.

  Much to everyone’s astonishment, the Colonel simply raised his boot and brought it down on the larva. There was the most ghastly crack of bone as its childlike head split open.

  Will and Chester looked away.

  Drake opened a channel to Parry on the radio. “Tell everyone that the mature Warrior bugs are fast and highly mobile. They can clear some height, too.”

  Parry was shouting as he replied. “We already know that,” he said. There were yells and the sound of shotguns blasting in the background before Drake ended the connection.

  Then Drake turned to Mrs. Burrows. “Can you get Jeff across the road and have that bite looked at?” he asked her. As she took him away, Will and Chester followed Drake and Sweeney to the end of the corridor, where they tried not to look at the dead Limiter on the floor, less one brain. The boys could hear the Old Guard on the other side of the doors beginning to work their way through the warehouse. They were killing anything that moved, the terrible screams coming thick and fast.

  “Stay here and make sure nothing else gets out,” Drake ordered the boys as he and Sweeney prepared to enter.

  “Don’t you want us to help?” Chester offered.

  “No, the cleanup inside won’t be a pretty sight. I wouldn’t wish it on . . .” Drake trailed off as his radio bleeped. “Parry again,” he murmured, opening up the private frequency.

  “When Jiggs was with you, he noticed something,” Parry shouted.

  “Jiggs — with us?” Drake replied, frowning at Sweeney, who shook his head. “None of us saw him.”

  “Well, he spotted a security camera in the corridor where you are,” Parry continued. “He says there’s a safe room up on the second. Check it out, will you?”

  The exchange came to an end, and Drake addressed Sweeney. “Hold the position here, Sparks. I need to investigate this.”

  Drake tore back down the corridor, the boys following so they could see what he was up to. Drake came to a stop outside the boardroom, where he peered up at a camera mounted just below the ceiling.

  “Yes, there it is.” He turned to the reception area and addressed Colonel Bismarck. “Jiggs has located the security room a floor up,” he said. “If the system in this place has been left running, the footage could be very useful to us.”

  Drake immediately went upstairs with the Colonel to investigate, leaving Will and Chester to relieve Sweeney by the warehouse doors.

  “I may be coming back this way. Don’t blow my head off,” Sweeney said with a grin, then ducked inside the warehouse.

  Now alone, the boys stood guard with their Stens, listening to a sound track from the darkest of nightmares. They heard piercing screams. It was incessant. As though babies and young children were being slaughtered by the thousands.

  “I know they’re not human . . . but I’m so glad we’re not in there,” Chester whispered.

  Will just nodded.

  The air was thick with steam, and the only relief to the murky darkness was the occasional muzzle flash as weapons discharged.

  The squad was working its way in from the corner, the men with infrared goggles checking under the beds on which a few desiccated human remains lay on blood-caked mattresses. The heat-detecting equipment the men were using was essential. The younger larvae were easy to miss as they slithered under animal carcasses or took refuge in any nook or cranny they could find.

  But the mature larvae were the real problem.

  “Heads!” one of the squad shouted when he caught heat traces on the metal crossbeams running just under the roof.

  As lights raked where they were hiding, several Warrior larvae scattered. They used their newly developed limbs to full effect, darting along the beams while automatic fire peppered the roof space.

  One of the larvae was hit, falling to the ground, where it writhed and screamed at ear-piercing volume until it was put out of its misery.

  That was when the squad encountered their first Styx woman.

  “Getting strong readings here,” one of the men warned on his approach to a pile of beds heaped in a mound so high that it was almost touching the roof. “Could be a nest.”

  As the squad advanced, a young Warrior larva nosed out from the bottom of the pile. It was dispatched with a single shot from a handgun, bursting open with a splatter of lacteous fluid.

  A second larva was spotted not far from the first.

  A member of the
Old Guard lined up his weapon on it.

  But when someone yelled, “Good God! — watch it!” he didn’t take the shot.

  She was poised at the very top of the mound of beds, her insect limbs vibrating together in a low hum. The Styx woman had crept out much as a spider emerges when prey lands on its web. Her bloated midriff and her sinew-thin arms and legs only added to this image.

  “Back off from my children!” the Styx woman ordered, leering at the squad as fluid dribbled from her mouth.

  With her arched, angry eyebrows and her black, swollen lips, her exaggerated feminine features were like some burlesque mask.

  “Blimey, I swear that’s my ex-wife!” one of the Old Guard quipped, but nobody felt like laughing.

  “Lower your weapons, men. I say again — lower your weapons,” the Styx female commanded the squad of Old Guard. There was such authority in her voice that before they knew it, a number of the veteran soldiers had actually begun to comply, responding to the training entrenched in them during their lengthy military careers.

  “No! Hold to!” someone shouted, and for several beats, neither side made a move.

  The Styx woman and the squad of Old Guard stood frozen in the moment.

  Then, as the young Warrior larva began to slither back into its hiding place, the member of the Old Guard adjusted his aim on it.

  With a banshee howl, the Styx woman flew at him. In less than the blink of an eye, she’d landed in front of him. Using both her arms and insect limbs, she wrenched the assault rifle from his grip.

  She knew her weapons. In a blur, she’d flipped the HK MP53 around and was pointing it straight at his chest.

  She began to pull the trigger.

  But another man had acted with speed equal to hers.

  Sweeney kicked the assault rifle, deflecting the burst away from the man’s chest. The rounds hit the floor, ripping holes in the concrete.

  The Styx woman swore as she swiped at Sweeney’s face with her insect limbs, but he ducked low, avoiding them. And, as he came up again, he had the MP53 in his hands.